


The Handyman

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, College, Crushes, M/M, Nerds in Love, awkward Hannibal, med school, nerdy Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Hannibal meets a young man with a rather unusual occupation, and he'll do anything to see him again.Even if it means ruining a good cheese knife.





	

Hannibal eyed the cadaver with mingled surprise and suspicion. The body had belonged to a man in his mid-fifties with thinning hair and the beginnings of a potbelly, but these were neither surprising nor suspicious. No, the thing that had given Hannibal pause was the dead man’s remarkable freshness.

He glanced at Sutcliffe over the dissection table and was met with a small but self-satisfied smile.

“Might I inquire as to how you snagged such a fresh specimen?” Hannibal asked.

Sutcliffe’s smile burst into a grin. “I _found_ it! Idiot passed out in his car and froze to death overnight!”

“Donald,” Hannibal said, scolding. “Someone’s going to notice an unauthorized body in the lab.”

Sutcliffe waved away his concerns. “I know a special ‘handyman’,” he said. “We’ll call for cleanup after we’re done studying.”

Hannibal considered arguing more strenuously, but when would he get another chance to dissect a cadaver that hadn’t already been picked apart by his fellow students? He kept his mouth shut and picked up his scalpel.

* * *

Twenty minutes after Sutcliffe picked up the phone, the most stunningly beautiful young man Hannibal had ever seen walked into the lab.

Time slowed to a crawl. The bluish glare of the overhead lights suddenly turned as golden as post-dawn sunlight. Harpsichords began to play and cherubs descended from heaven to flit about this mysterious young man’s perfectly broad shoulders. Birds appeared from nowhere to adorn his dark, curling hair with a wreath of wild flowers. His tan canvas coveralls became as diaphanous as silk borne aloft by a summer’s breeze.

What sort of angel or demon could undertake such nefarious work? What nightmare landscapes or decadent dreams must occupy his sleeping mind?

Suddenly, Sutcliffe elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, “ _You’re drooling_.”

Hannibal blinked, clearing his mind’s eye of its pre-Raphaelite imaginings just in time to see the love of his life wheeling away the cadaver.

Hannibal chased him down the hall with nary an inkling of what he meant to say or do. He knew only that he had to speak to him.

“Um! UMMM! _Wait!_ ”

The young man stopped, but did not turn to look at him.

“You forget something?” he asked.

_Dear God. Even his voice is lovely._

“Do you have a business card?” Hannibal asked. “For my records.”

“I find it best not to leave a paper trail for this sort of thing,” the young man said, blue eyes darkening in a scowl.

Nonetheless, he took a ballpoint pen from the pocket of his coveralls, reached for Hannibal’s hand and scratched out his name and number.

“I shall commit it to memory,” Hannibal said, “ _Will_.”

* * *

Hannibal wondered what might be the appropriate number of days to wait before calling the mysterious and beautiful Will. He didn’t want to seem desperate, but it wasn’t like he’d ever called anyone before, so how was he to know? People called _him_.

He made it 14 hours and 27 minutes before picking up the phone.

Will’s way of answering was as gruff as it was charming: “Yeah?”

“Hello! Yes. This is Hannibal. Lecter. The med student you helped out last night. _One_ of the med students you helped out last night.”

Will seemed to think that over for a few moments. “The skinny one or the one with the cheekbones?”

“Cheekbones,” Hannibal confirmed.

“Ah, right,” Will said, his tone giving no indication how he _felt_ about said cheekbones. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Hannibal said, “I was wondering what other ‘handyman' services you might provide…”

* * *

Will showed up on his doorstep in a stained T-shirt, threadbare old jeans and a tool belt slung low on his hips. Hannibal didn’t consider himself prone to exaggerated reactions, but he thought he might die at the very sight of him.

“You know, people don’t usually call me to fix their garbage disposals,” Will said.

Hannibal tried to look surprised. “No?”

“No, it’s usually just the corpse disposal,” Will said. He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of porno situation?”

Hannibal tried to look indignant. “Of course not! I told you on the phone. I got a cheese knife stuck in the disposal.”

Will lightly punched his shoulder. “Relax, Cheekbones. I’m just jerkin’ your chain.”

He showed himself inside, angling for the kitchen without waiting for any further instruction. He was decisive. Hannibal liked that. He rubbed his shoulder where Will had touched it.

“Boy you really got that knife jammed in there,” Will said, bent over the sink so that the perfect, honeydew curves his buttocks were on prominent display. “I can fix the disposal, but your knife may never slice through semi-soft cheeses again.”

“I’ll try to Camem- _bear_ it somehow,” Hannibal said, cringing at his own pun. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself making it worse. “Camem… _bear_. Camembert. It’s a kind of cheese.”

Will, still deep in concentration over the sink, snorted. “You’re kinda funny, Cheekbones. Weird, but funny.”

Hannibal was glad Will couldn’t see him, because he was certain he was grinning like an idiot. He forced himself to calm down and change the subject.

“Do you do much of your other job?”

Will shrugged. “It’s a medical school. There are never enough bodies to go around so students always ‘find’ one of their own. I need the money and I’m studying forensics, so they figure I must know good ways to dispose of cadavers.”

“And do you?” Hannibal asked.

“Well, I’d tell ya,” Will said, “but then I’d have to kill ya.”

He tossed a little look over his shoulder at that, and gave Hannibal a wink.

Hannibal took a deep breath and blurted out before he could lose his nerve: “I don’t suppose you’d like to stay for dinner.”

* * *

Hannibal found Will shockingly easy to talk to. Perhaps even more surprisingly, he found him easy to listen to. No, not just easy—Hannibal found him enchanting and delightful and scintillating. He was going to revolutionize the way forensic scientists quantified insect activity to determine time of death.

“For example,” Will said around a mouthful of omelet, “there’s a parasite that’s found only in the guts of certain beetle species that, when left behind in their feces, will phosphoresce under…”

Hannibal was on the edge of his seat, fork poised and forgotten over his food. “Yes? It phosphoresces under what?”

Will threw back his head and laughed. “I can’t believe I’m talking about beetle poop over dinner with you!”

“Please feel free to continue talking,” Hannibal said. “About beetle poop or about anything else, for however long you want.”

A dark look came over Will’s expression as suddenly pushed himself away from the table. “I’d rather see about that other repair you’re needing.”

Hannibal swallowed thickly as Will reached for his tie and tugged him up from his seat. “I’m not certain what other repair—”

“Your bed,” Will said. “The headboard’s about to be broken.”

Hannibal thought about that for a moment. “Oh!”

Everything following was a bit of a whirlwind as Will’s hands peeled off both their clothes. Shirts, underwear, socks flew through the air. Hannibal just sort of flailed behind him to indicate the general direction of his bedroom, unable to speak because Will’s demanding mouth was suddenly on his own.

They fell backwards onto the bed, still scrabbling at each other, desperate to feel every bit of newly exposed skin. Hannibal gasped as work-roughened palms grabbed his bare buttocks and one adventurous finger made an exploratory gesture around his anus.

“I…I don’t have any supplies,” Hannibal said. “You know, for…internal…matters.”

Will stopped kissing his neck long enough to look at him. “No lube or anything? Huh. Well, that’s okay. You wanna just do external stuff?”

Hannibal nodded so quickly his vision blurred.

Will grinned at him and went back to tackling him with kisses.

* * *

By the time it was all over, they were both sticky and breathing hard, and stinging a little bit in sensitive places where they perhaps rubbed a too enthusiastically, and Hannibal was convinced not even Boticelli could have painted a lovelier angel than Will Graham.

“I’m sorry I was a little rude when we first met,” Will said, absently wiping semen from his left eye.

“I didn’t notice you being rude,” Hannibal said. “Trust me, I always notice when people are being rude.”

Will snorted. “I didn’t even make eye contact,” he said. “It’s just that your lab partner’s been asking me out for weeks and I thought you were chasing me down to put in a good word for him. He kept comparing me to some kind of rare Spanish ham or something. Loser.”

Hannibal pushed himself shakily onto his elbows. His face was hot with mingled shame and excessive friction from his pillow case. “Will…I sabotaged my own garbage disposal so I’d have an excuse to call you.”

Will gasped dramatically. “No! Really? You deceiver! Are you really even a med student, Cheekbones?”

Hannibal nudged him. He was about to say he could understand why someone would turn into an idiot around Will, but realized it was fairly blatantly obvious.

So instead he asked, “Can I invite you over again some time, even if there are no repairs to be made or cadavers to dispose of?”

“I might even have you over at my place,” Will said. “I have the biggest beetle poop collection outside a natural history museum, if you’d care to learn more about my studies.”

Time slowed to a crawl. The flickering glow of the streetlamps outside the window seemed to bathe him in perfect golden light. Harpsichords began to play and cherubs descended from heaven to weave wild flowers in his perfect mahogany curls…

“I’d care to learn everything about you,” Hannibal said.

 

 

-end-

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Cadaver shortages](http://www.denverpost.com/2008/04/29/cadaver-shortage-hits-medical-schools/) are a real thing.


End file.
